Teeth
So, there was this house-- a house not unlike the one featured in House of Leaves whose inner proportions didn't seem to match the outer ones. I can't recall how I came to be in that house or if it was even mine. However, there I was, touring the place, a freshly made whiskey sour in my hand. After venturing through room after impossibly large room, I came upon a study that had the most magnificent black and white tiled floor that I had ever seen. It also had the convenient feature of a gaping hole that appeared to lead directly to Hell right in the middle of the room. Mouth agape, I slumped into an incredibly high-backed wing chair and just studied it. I sat there for hours, transfixed. Eventually, I worked up the nerve to pull the chair closer to the edge of the chasm, hoping that somehow proximity would provide an answer to the whys and hows floating about my brain. Those answers never came, but sitting closer did provide more details about the gaping maw itself. Its walls were lined, every three feet or so and in a spiral pattern, with teeth; molars, to be precise. Even the walls themselves resembled the color and texture of gums; unhealthy gums. Suddenly, I was flush with curiosity and knew that I must touch it. I sat aside my drink, the ice having melted long ago, and crawled out of my chair. It took what seemed like ages to crawl the several feet separating the chair and the abyss, but eventually I was able to extend a hand over it; then, an elbow; and then, finally, my entire arm. I didn't dare reach my head over, for that would've been too foolhardy. As my hand inched closer to where I knew the wall must begin, I felt the sting of sweat as it passed into my eyes. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained" I said, unsure if it was to me or to the chasm, and clapped my hand against the lining.
And the lining pushed back.
It was subtle, like that of someone shifting during sleep, but it was noticeable. I scrambled back quickly, knocking over both the chair and my drink. My heart was racing to the point that I thought I may die right there on that floor. I braced myself for whatever the chasm may send after me. But, nothing came. No demons or spirits, no chains to pull me down into one of Dante's circles. Eventually, I was able to crack a nervous smile. After the post-adrenaline, Jell-O-legged feeling subsided, I got to my feet. I didn't replace the chair or clean up the whiskey-- that could wait until tomorrow. I turned and made my way to the door, exhausted and craving my bed. Before I left, however, I noticed a peculiar sensation in my mouth, one of rattling. I probed around with my fingers until I found the source-- a loose incisor. With very little effort, the tooth came out, wholly intact. My hands began to shake as I felt the sensation again, this time from a canine tooth. As I stared wild-eyed at the two teeth in my hand, I heard a sound that couldn't have actually been a sound, a sound that could only be described as release. I dropped to my knees and spat; there, upon one of the brilliant white tiles of the hall, floating in a small pool of blood, were dozens and dozens of other teeth, teeth that could not have possibly been mine. I collapsed onto my side... and woke up.
I have no fucking where this monstrosity of a dream came from, but there you go. Yes, I do still have all of my teeth. When I woke up, the very first thing I did was bite down as hard as I could. My tongue was not happy about this, but I was quite relieved to know that all of my pearlies were still in place.
And the lining pushed back.
It was subtle, like that of someone shifting during sleep, but it was noticeable. I scrambled back quickly, knocking over both the chair and my drink. My heart was racing to the point that I thought I may die right there on that floor. I braced myself for whatever the chasm may send after me. But, nothing came. No demons or spirits, no chains to pull me down into one of Dante's circles. Eventually, I was able to crack a nervous smile. After the post-adrenaline, Jell-O-legged feeling subsided, I got to my feet. I didn't replace the chair or clean up the whiskey-- that could wait until tomorrow. I turned and made my way to the door, exhausted and craving my bed. Before I left, however, I noticed a peculiar sensation in my mouth, one of rattling. I probed around with my fingers until I found the source-- a loose incisor. With very little effort, the tooth came out, wholly intact. My hands began to shake as I felt the sensation again, this time from a canine tooth. As I stared wild-eyed at the two teeth in my hand, I heard a sound that couldn't have actually been a sound, a sound that could only be described as release. I dropped to my knees and spat; there, upon one of the brilliant white tiles of the hall, floating in a small pool of blood, were dozens and dozens of other teeth, teeth that could not have possibly been mine. I collapsed onto my side... and woke up.
I have no fucking where this monstrosity of a dream came from, but there you go. Yes, I do still have all of my teeth. When I woke up, the very first thing I did was bite down as hard as I could. My tongue was not happy about this, but I was quite relieved to know that all of my pearlies were still in place.